


The House on Blackberry Hill

by Welshgreendragon



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen, Haunted Houses, really not that scary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 13:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11014269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welshgreendragon/pseuds/Welshgreendragon
Summary: There was something malicious in this house. The boys could see it clear as day, but convincing their father was going to be a challenge. A challenge that almost certainly had a time limit. Co- authored with niamhsunderrated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on ffnet. Thank you to phoenix sparrow for betaing the first 2 chapters.

There was no darker time than a funeral. The Tracy brothers couldn’t agree more as they trudged miserably through the muddy grounds, splattering their polished shoes and crisp black trousers with dirt. They wound their way around the many tombstones in graveyard, following the coffin bearers closely. It was spitting with rain and the damp seemed to seep through their suits, making the fabric cling uncomfortably to their skin. 

There was something infinitely strange about watching your loved ones grieve, Virgil concluded. Feeling their pain as clearly as your own, yet failing to find the right words to say in comfort. 

He couldn’t bear to listen to what the priest was saying, rambling on about God’s plan and how she was at God’s side now.He never knew their mother; to him, she was nobody, just another face in the crowd, another life gone. He could never know of the hours they had spent together playing side by side on the piano, humming the tunes as they played.The way she would cheer so loudly at Scott’s games she would almost deafen those in a five feet radius. The nights she and John would curl up side by side under a blanket on the roof, basking in the starlight. 

She was their mother and now she was gone... 

The priest rambled on but he couldn’t hear properly, everything was muffled like he’d been submerged under water. He looked at each of his family’s faces and for a group that varied so much in appearance, it was unnerving to see the same hollow look in each of their eyes. 

Scott stood stone-faced holding Alan in a tight grip; the mite had only just stopped crying after a week of endless tears and tantrums. The flight home had been the worst. Alan had screamed and screamed for his mother to the point another passenger had demanded that their father shut him up. To which their father replied back rudely, cursing the man out until the flight attendants had to intervene. The whole thing had just made Alan cry louder. 

Jeff Tracy’s nerves had been completely shattered the moment he had identified his beloved wife in the mortuary. Gone was the unflappable astronaut and in his stead stood a broken man. Virgil doubted he’d ever forget the inhuman wail his father had let out seeing Lucille’s frozen body. 

Their grandmother was the only one openly crying, sniffing and dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief, her other hand gently combing through Gordon’s hair as he leaned into her side. His immediate younger brother’s eyes never once left the coffin. 

Before he knew it, the coffin was being lowered and Virgil couldn’t help noticing the cruel irony of burying someone who essentially had been already been buried, in a tomb of ice and snow. 

The dirt was thrown on top of the coffin bit by bit, landing with a thud which made him flinch. He didn’t know how long they stood there, or notice the small gathering of people disperse until only the remaining Tracys were left.  
“Boys,” their father’s hoarse voice stated, gruff from misuse. “I found us a new place to live, we-we can’t stay where we are any longer.”  
All they could really do was nod dumbly as his words hadn’t stunk in. 

Almost robotically they had packed up their things, putting their whole lives as they knew it into cardboard boxes and packing them into a removal van. 

It wasn’t until they drove off their drive for the very last time, it actually sunk in for Virgil.They weren’t just moving house, they were leaving behind the very memory of their mother and he could only watch numbly as all he knew got smaller and smaller.


	2. Chapter 2

The drive was long and tiresome, all six of them cramped in the confines of the Volvo. The winding country roads had set off Alan’s car sickness and unfortunately Jeff hadn’t had time to pull in before Alan had lost his breakfast all over himself and John’s trousers.   
There wasn’t a gas station for miles and the smell was horrendous. Scott, the ever-sympathetic puker, was sticking his head out of the window, trying to escape the stench. Whilst Gordon, the family wind up merchant, was doing his best at describing disgusting things, trying to make Alan throw up again this time over Virgil. 

Finally, they passed through a small town, and while there wasn’t a huge choice of shops, there was a small DIY shop, a Tavern and an outdoor wear shop. 

So there they were, sitting outside an old Tavern, eating questionable burgers and fries, with Alan and John in oversized cargo pants held up with safety pins and oversized belts that Jeff had had to make new holes in. 

“Well, boys, I know today hasn’t gone exactly the way I planned,” Jeff began. “But this is a new beginning for us, and I just know you are going to love the new house. Just think, you will each have your own room.Gordon,it’s got its own pool and plenty of rooms. We could turn one of them into music room for you, Virgil,”he placated, but none of the boys could muster any enthusiasm. This was all too much too fast. Just weeks ago, they were on a family vacation and now they were down a parent and moving to the middle of nowhere, away from all they knew.

The rest of the car journey was as uncomfortable as the rest. In vain, Jeff had sprayed air freshener in the back of car, but all it had done create a horrid vomit-apple concoction. Setting a newly bought bucket on Alan’s lap,they were off again,through the winding roads that were shadowed by the surrounding trees of the woods that arched over them.

It was mid afternoon when they finally arrived at their new house. New probably wasn’t the right adjective, John thought wryly. The house itself looked to be straight out of an Agatha Christy novel. Old and possibly quite grand in its time, it was surrounded by tall wrought iron fence and a huge gate stood proudly at the bottom of the long, slightly overgrown drive. 

Scott jumped out to open the gate, which after a number of attempts, creaked open. 

The house stood three storeys tall and was quite frankly huge. Scott had no doubt that everyone would have their own room and thought people could probably avoid each other for days; John will be happy. 

Virgil looked on assessing, there was a lot of work that needed to be done. Many of the windows were boarded up and much of the wood on the windowsills, stairs and porch would have to be replaced as rot had clearly been eating away at them for decades.

He hoped their father knew what he was doing; lately he’d been acting a little unhinged. The normally calculated man had been taking more than his fair share of risks. Yes, he knew his father was grieving, but it was unnoticeable to those who did not know him well, while being obvious to those who did, that he wasn’t handling it well. 

Jeff Tracy wasn’t a hysterical man by any means; he didn’t break down and weep about his loss or was prone to bouts of rage. Nor did he drown his sorrows with alcohol. 

He just stopped seeming to care. He no longer cared how his business was doing, pawning nearly all of his work on his poor secretary. But worst of all, no longer seemed to care about his sons. 

Yesterday, Alan had fallen and scrapped his knee and instead of running to his aid, Jeff had snapped, “Scott! See to your brother.” He had stormed into his study, while Scott tried his best to soothe Alan. 

Virgil only hoped this was a phase; he hated to think he’d lost both his parents at the same time. 

As they walked further into the house, they came to realise just how big the place was, the ceiling was so high it would give anyone with agoraphobia the chills. 

There was so much work to be done, the old wooden floors were rotting and warped, some were even sticking out of floor. John had nearly knocked him over tripping over one. 

“Daddy, I don’t like this place!” Alan whimpered and Virgil couldn’t help but agree with him.   
“Now Alan, I know it needs a lot of work but we will make this place a home, you’ll see. Now why don’t you boys go pick out your rooms, but be careful on the stairs.”

Obediently, they went upstairs one by one, Scott carrying Alan carefully over rotten steps and holes. 

Virgil was amazed that Gordon had yet to make any quip or comment, but looking at his immediate younger brother, he was saddened to see he wasn’t even smiling. Virgil couldn’t blame him, this place just seemed to bleed sorrow from every corner. 

Splashes of colour caught his eye; there on the wall were glimmers of red and orange. Curious, he made his way down the long corridor until he approached a huge arched stain glass window. 

The artwork was exquisite and the artist in him couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship, but the image gave him chills.The piece was of a women facing out to an orange and red sunset, seemingly innocent and pretty, but there was something in the way she held herself that seemed sorrowful and the surrounding trees seemed to dwarf her. 

A chirp startled him, looking up he saw a robin nesting in the corner of the ceiling; it peered down at him curiously.

“Hello, little guy,” he greeted and the robin chirped back, before taking off down the hall. 

“Hey wait!” he called, following the little bird. It flew through a slightly open door and out of sight. Approaching, Virgil could still hear it chirping until a horrible crack sounded. 

Pushing the door wide open he could see the poor bird’s body lying in the middle of the room. Gasping, he rushed forward, scooping its broken body off the floor, its head hanging from a broken neck. 

Looking around, he could see nothing that could have caused the poor bird’s early demise. The room was empty. 

Yes there was definitely something wrong with this house.


End file.
